


I'm the innocent bystander

by columbine_and_asphodel (onlycrooks)



Series: The Innocent Bystander [13]
Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Sort of a Get Together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-31
Updated: 2012-12-31
Packaged: 2017-11-23 04:02:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/617867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onlycrooks/pseuds/columbine_and_asphodel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stereotypes have a certain amount of truth behind them.</p><p>Or: Danny relocates, Anja and Steve have a friendly conversation, Danny and Steve spill some secrets and German is spoken (but not written out because all I have the confidence to do correctly is count to nineteen).</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm the innocent bystander

**Author's Note:**

> Apologies for not getting this up earlier. I really did mean to have this done by Christmas, but I got one of those nasty winter bugs/: So how about a Happy New Years post? (That said, I know I have to go back and do a bit of tweaking, but I _needed_ to have this up.)

He's warm when he wakes up, the sun just above the horizon, and it takes Steve a moment to get his bearings. He's in his bed, in his room and wrapped in his own sheets. It's an odd feeling- not wrong, exactly, but not quite right, either. He'd easily readjusted to sleeping and waking on his own after the divorce (which had been amicable enough, the house and truck remaining his and Cath getting a painful, if understandable, amount of money), so it isn't from lonliness- though if he's honest, he'd never actually adjusted to Cath in his bed in the first place. Further analysis concludes the feeling comes more from being estranged from the bed, with no comfortable pillow tucked beneath his neck like all self respecting men in their forties should have.

Steve's been too busy sleeping on cots and plastic hospital chairs to be here.

With a grimace, he remembers why he'd been sleeping (If it could be called that- worrying himself into exhaustion or pretending to sleep while watching over the man in the bed nearby would be more accurate) there, and worse, he remembers why he's finally back in his bed and back to doing something like sleeping.

Danny's with him- probably in the guest room, still asleep.

Convincing him to stay with Steve had been frighteningly easy. Making the decision to ask him, however, had been anything but, and Steve had spent the days before Danny's discharge debating whether or not he should do it. In the past, he wouldn't have hesitated, would have mentioned having a comfortable spare bed and a beach for Grace to enjoy, comfortable in the knowledge Danny would accept, however grudgingly, and that would have been that. But they aren't partners anymore, whatever Steve's mind may think. The authority he'd held over the other man had been tenuous at best, little moments Danny'd listened to him because he'd been out of his depth, and without Five-0, Steve hadn't had anything to hold over Danny's head, no secret knowledge or skills he'd be able to whip out and use to take control.

In the end, it hadn't been Steve to make the decision. He'd been silently despairing one day as he watched Danny sleep off the past... months? years? (Steve hadn't even known how long he'd been working on the operation. A memory, the image of a cop's uniform- complete with gun and TAC vest, a few words on a piece of paper- tucked carefully into a bag, had made him think years. For as long as Five-0 had been chasing criminals and not-mentioning the careless injuries and cases nearly lost because of _procedure_ \- Chin had fought to keep them within bounds, but between two people used to the Navy's rules and one rookie, he'd been spread too far, his face lined with worries and regrets he shouldn't have had to carry- Danny had been chasing one of his own) when Rachel, Grace just behind her, had come into the room.

Neither had been to the hospital since that first day, but while their unexpected appearance had startled Steve, Danny hadn't seemed surprised. He'd reached out and carefully pulled Grace onto the bed beside him, a sliver of his old smile softening the sharpness of his thin face.

As silent as the pair on the bed, Rachel had taken Steve's arm and pulled him into the hallway just outside the room. Her face had been drawn and pale, her fingers trembling where they held him, but she'd spoken with the same authority she'd had years in the past.

"I realize you and I aren't close, Commander, and that you and my ex-husband are no longer partners, but I have a favor to ask of you. Danny's house, if you'll indulge my calling it so, is far from appropriate for someone in his state, even if he allowed our daughter to help him, which we know he wouldn't. If I asked- and yes, before you say anything, I am aware that it is, in part, my doing that he... stays in such a place- he'd say he was fine and do what he does best: suffer. If things continue as they are now, the moment he's discharged, Danny will tell Grace he wants her to stay with Stanley, Charlie and me, then lie on his sofa and stare at the ceiling until he's better. He'll be entire alone unless he gets some of that horrid takeout or Anja, as I'm sure you've had the pleasure of meeting her, remembers to stop by and apologize for getting him hurt."

Her quiet rage, quivering breath and tears already beginning to slip from her eyes had erased what little malice Steve had held against her, and right then, Rachel could have asked him to pay for Danny to stay at the most expensive hospital in New York, and Steve would have agreed without a thought.

"Please, Commander- Steve, if you still have any of the love for him you did in the past, take Danny back in."

Something must have changed on his face because Rachel's face had flushed and she'd immediately backtracked, her hand jerking off his arm.

"Ah, that is... Grace is upset enough about having to go to school, rather than sit with her father, being sent away again will only make it worse. If she knew her father wouldn't be alone, but with someone who cared about him, someone she knew, I might be able to convince her to go back to school, which would make Danny happy as well."

Steve's head hadn't finished going over what she'd said earlier, but he'd gotten the gist: Take care of Danny for Grace.

How could he have refused?

Rachel had thanked him, and the two of them had waited in silence until Grace had come out and declared Danno too tired to stay up anymore. Then she'd walked over, pulled Steve into a hug and held on until Rachel, sensing Steve's discomfort, had gently pulled her off.

Steve had watched them leave with a small amount of dread. _He'd_ agreed, but if Danny didn't want to, he wouldn't.

After two days and a few discreet reminders from Rachel, Steve had worked up the courage to ask. He'd braced for rejection, but Danny had just closed eyes and nodded.

Steve hadn't known how to proceed from there, so he'd stayed quiet and, once Danny's signature had been sufficiently scribbled, driven them home.

Now, four days later, they've barely said a word to each other, and Steve is struggling to contain himself. He's never seen Danny so not himself. He knows his partner's in pain, can see it in the way he walks, how he tries not to sit, the way he wears shirts that are too big- shirts that, if Steve isn't mistaken, used to fit him snugly. Then there's the hard set of his jaw, the heavy wrinkles across his brow and the grimaces he tries to hide. This new, jaded man barely resembles the old Danny with the swagger and constant chatter, but sometimes, if he does something just right, he'll catch a glimpse of him. Usually it's the beginning of one of Danny's truly happy smiles, but sometimes it's a familiar pause, a moment Danny stops and looks at him hard, as if Steve had said something surprising. It's hard to pry them from him, those miniature reflections of reactions Danny'd never kept to himself before, and it hurts to watch them leave, unexpressed.

At least there had been a brief reprieve on the second day. Chin and Kono had come over, ostensibly to go over the facts of a case about to go to trial, but their real goal had been checking on Danny. They'd taken turns, one staying in the living room with Steve to go over the case and the other sitting with Danny on the lanai. Chin had gone out first and spent nearly two hours beside his friend. Though neither had said much, their expressions had told the other two they'd said enough. Kono hadn't lasted as long- barely ten minutes- but she'd left Danny with a smile.

Two days later, the calming effects of Chin and Kono are gone, and Steve is alone once more with the hollow man who's taken the place of his partner.

Shaking his head, Steve gets up. He's still tired and doesn't want to risk cramping up or overdoing things, so he changes his boxers and goes down the stairs to start breakfast. Danny's weight is definitely worrying him as much as his silence. Taking a page from Danny's parenting book, he starts making a list of what comfort foods he can make, but a noise from the kitchen catches his attention.

He's half-crouched, preparing himself for an attack, but a low voice interrupts his plans.

"Good morning, Commander McGarrett. You don't need to skulk in your own house. I thought you'd like to chat. I even made tea, as I'm sure you can smell. It's masala chai, a blend you like, yes?"

A frown is already settling on his face as Steve wanders into the kitchen and finds Anja settled in a chair at his table, a cup in her hands and one at the place across from her. There are dark circles under her eyes, and what little makeup she'd applied is slightly smudged.

Steve doesn't bother with manners. He drops into a chair and gestures for the woman to speak.

"I realize you are uncomfortable, but I didn't think you'd open the door."

She isn't wrong, so Steve stays quiet.

"You have questions, I'm sure. Ones Daniel wouldn't answer, even if you asked. So I will."

"Oh, really? You're just going to tell me what I want to know."

"That is what I said." There's a flatness to her voice beyond a struggle with another language that sets Steve on edge.

"And you expect me to believe that?"

"I expect you to ask and listen anyway."

Again, she isn't wrong.

"Then I'll begin. Daniel and I have a complicated relationship. I helped him on a case when he was a baby Detective. I will admit I deceived him. He thought I was a simple prostitute like the ones who'd been murdered. In truth, there is no word for what I do. I do not answer anyone- no country, no government. I am just Anja, a woman with more than enough information to topple any and every government. I could tell the people what the people in charge are doing, and I could lead riots. To me, your classified missions as a SEAL are a child's secrets. They have no power, no real meaning to me, but if I want them, they are mine."

Steve blinks at the vehemence in her voice. Her expression, however, remains blank as she shifts slightly, her body quickly taking up more space than he'd thought it could. She doesn't speak for long moments, merely looms over him with an almost contemptuous twist to her lips.

When she finally breaks her silence, her words are quiet, but there's no way to miss their scornful edge.

"I could know every detail of every mission you've done, and I could do with it as I pleased: publish it, give it away, even sell it." She pauses again, suddenly smiling. "I suspect, however, the worst I could do would be to show it to- What is it you call him? Ah, yes. _Danno."_

Steve can't keep quiet this time, not when she's blatantly trying to intimidate him. She's never had to tell a little girl she'd nearly gotten her father killed, though. If Danny'd been hurt in the past, Anja hadn't told Gracie. This time, like with the Sarin, Steve had gone to her and taken responsibility. Grace's anger is far more terrifying than a German with his military record, so her show leaves him unimpressed. "Yet you haven't."

Anja sits back with a regretful sigh.

"No, I haven't."

"Why?"

"It would hurt Daniel, and that has happened more than enough now."

"Now? You mean, after nearly killing him, you're done. That's very noble of you."

Her cheek twitches, but Anja doesn't take the bait.

"As I was saying earlier, I helped Daniel when he lived in New Jersey. After a few months, I found I needed some help from a policeman and decided to go back to the one who'd helped me in the past, the one who'd stripped so the women we found, naked in a basement, could cover themselves. It was sweet, an innocent and... merciful act. I wondered if he was still so kind, and yes, he was, though he'd suffered much by then. Still, he was willing to help me in return, and we started a kind of partnership."

It takes a moment for Steve to realize she isn't talking because he's on his feet. Anja's gaze is locked on his hands where his knuckles are resting on the table, the fingers now pulled into fists, and Steve can see her eyelashes move as she blinks.

_Blink-blink. Blink._

He's too old to be throwing things, but that word makes him sick.

_Partnership. Partners._

Danny had been his to protect, but he hadn't. Danny had been Anja's to protect, but she'd dragged him into the fire and held him there. If she'd liked his kindness, she'd liked his loyalty. Danny had gone to North Korea for Steve. What wouldn't he have done for Anja?

Guiltily, he remembers Danny in the spare room and hopes he hadn't woken him. Danny usually isn't a light sleeper and moves heavily in the morning, his knee stiff after being still for so long.

Steve's been careful anyway. They haven't been in such close quarters in so long, it's possible Danny could have changed, and Steve doesn't want to risk disturbing him, not when he looks closer to ghost than human...

"Perhaps you would like to sit?" The change in tone is obvious, and it gives Steve a bit of sick satisfaction. At least he's shaken her, if her hesitance is genuine.

Though he doesn't want to sit, Steve grabs his chair and sits. He has a lifetime to berate himself and wallow in anger, but he only has Anja for so long.

"Associates may be a better word," she offers slowly. "He scratched my back, I scratched his. Most of the time, all I needed was an extra gun, someone who wouldn't shoot like an idiot."

"And the rest of the time?" Steve presses.

"I believe you already know the answer to that." Steve winces, both at Anja's emotionless tone and the answer. "It was not always like this, however. Sometimes he played my... boy toy? He would assess threats, listen to the things people say when they thought no one was around to hear. Then problems grew with his wife. She turned cold, and he grew angry. She thought he was being unfaithful, but no, Daniel never cheated on her, would not even kiss me to keep up an illusion.

"He had one favor to return when he told me he couldn't anymore. Rachel was pregnant, and they wanted to be sure the baby would have a favor. He offered to help me with whatever I had on then, but, unfortunately, his Persian was a disaster. I told him it was nothing. I knew how much a child meant to him- I had to, after spending hours with him and his books of names and things to know about children- and wished them well. I did not plan to need him again."

"Yet you did," Steve reminds her flatly.

"I did. But you must understand something. I did not know how bad things would become."

"Bad? Bad's an understatement, don't you think?"

"What does it matter, what word I use?" Anja demands, hands squeezing the edge of the table. "Bad, horrible, terrible... They are all negative! All I knew was that a certain member of the United States' government had a weakness for prostitutes and that it needed to come to an end. There was never any indications that he would..."

"Rip Danny open? Use his body like a toy? Nearly kill hi-"

"No! No, I didn't know that!"

"But you would have sent him in anyway, wouldn't you?"

The answer's obvious, and it makes Steve sick. They're both standing, the table and two cold cups of tea all that separates them, and to his eyes, they aren't going to be enough. He's going to move- around them or through them, whichever's faster- and he's going to hurt her. He isn't proud- he's closer to sick, bile strong in his throat- but blood begets blood.

Danny's bled enough to balance the scales.

The cold control from earlier is back. Experience, however, tells Steve she's putting up a front. He isn't, though, but as he stalks around the table, something shifts.

A sharp sound makes his head jerk around in confusion, because while it's Danny's voice- and Danny's body, too, clad in last night's pajamas- the noise he just made doesn't mean anything. There's a deep scowl on his face, though, which Steve recognizes instantly. It's the one he wears when he's genuinely furious.

Entering the kitchen, Danny makes another unintelligible noise. Steve tries once more to figure out what Danny's saying, but quickly realizes Danny isn't using English. The consonants combine in odd ways, his voice catching in his throat and making sounds Steve knows don't belong to English. Wishing distantly he'd accepted the offer to take a year of German immersion as well as Pacific Asian, Steve feels himself relaxing, the murderous intent washed away at Danny's return to expression.

For once, his ire isn't aimed at Steve.

The German gets lower and decidedly more unhappy as Danny comes to a stop between them, his back to Steve.

Anja tries to interrupt a few times, her own speech higher and catching less, but Danny talks over her. Whatever he's saying- Steve has some idea, because the longer he listens, the more English-sounding words he finds, but it's still a true flood of foreign words- he doesn't seem to have any plans to listen to her opinions. It's the most Danny-like action Steve's seen since... the days they'd been partners, and it's as warm and pleasant as feeling him standing so close. If he wanted, Steve could lift an a hand and touch him, Danny was so close, and the longer the conversation went on, the strong the desire to do it, to ignore the entire situation and just... put a hand on Danny's shoulder- or maybe both, a weak imitation of a hug- one that could slip into a real one if Danny would let him, or hug back, like they had so few times in the past...

He's saved from the embarrassment of actually giving in by Anja straightening painfully fast, like a recruit caught out by a drill sergeant. Her expression isn't one he can place.

Danny's rage has cooled slightly, and with it, some of his stiff posture. From behind, he looks so much like the man whose first impulse had been to shout at him after he'd escaped prison, Steve had to grab his elbows and switch his attention to Anja, whose expression is far from pleased.

Anja mutters something darkly, but Danny shifts in a blatant "I'm done with this" gesture.

Her presence clearly unwelcome, the woman spins on her heel and walks out, blond hair flashing in the bright, mid-morning sunlight.

Steve moves to follow her, but Danny grabs his elbow.

"Leave her."

Confused, Steve gives the hand a quick look- no, he hadn't imagined it- then turns his gaze to the face above. Danny's face is weary, his wrinkles the deepest Steve's ever seen, and that's how he knows that yes, they're going to talk again, if only for a moment.

"Just... sit."

"Danny, I-"

"Now, Steven."

Steve does as he's asked, watching carefully as Danny does the same, his blue eyes shutting slowly.

Steve's never seen Danny so still, none of the usual nervous gives on display, and it worries him. He'd spent enough time with him to know his habits and tells, things that take a lifetime to make. It's been a few years, but Danny isn't the kind of person who changes easily or quickly. There's no way for that to have changed.

Then again, he'd never thought he'd come across Danny prostituting himself.

"What did you say to her?" he asks, as much because he's curious as he wants to change the image his head is giving him.

Danny shrugs slightly, falsely nonchalant.

"She wore out her welcome and I let her know."

"You don't seriously expect me to believe that."

"No, I don't, but I am asking you to leave it alone."

Steve doesn't want to, not at all, but he can see a losing argument when he's in one. He won't get anything more from Danny about it, at least not now.

"Then what do you want to talk about? The weather, maybe?"

It wouldn't take somemone familiar with Danny to figure out his expression: one part unimpressed, one part annoyed and a final part resigned. 

"I'm not a victim."

There's something important in that, so Steve nods, even though he doesn't understand.

"Don't nod at me like that," Danny snaps. "You aren't listening."

"You said four words!"

"Four _important_ words. Ones you, because you're so busy being angry, aren't getting."

Steve can feel the ache in the back of his head that always follows certain conversations with Danny, the ones that happen because he's talking just to talk, he's uncomfortable or- God forbid, because he's only had one of these, and it had been way back during Meka's case- his temper's barely in check. The best way to navigate them is to find which of those is the root and get Danny to admit it.

Actually finding a way to do that is far easier said than done and requires careful navigation of double conversations.

"So what the hell _are_ you saying? I know you and Grace like puzzles, but come on. Would you just say what you're thinking?"

"I'm thinking you need to stop blaming people. Anja didn't force me into this; I chose to do it entirely on my own."

"But-!"

"And neither did you," Danny cuts in. "I can see it on your face, this guilty expression you get, like when some poor bastard realizes he accidentally runs over some half crazy guy who ran into the street. You weren't in a car, Steve, and I'm safe on the sidewalk. There was just me and a case. That's it."

"You wouldn't have taken the case if you'd been with Five-0," Steve insists.

"Das ist Ansichtssache..." Danny shakes his head at the slip but doesn't interpret. "I wouldn't? You sure? A little extra moolah on the side, something to help with Grace? Yeah, I would've taken it. Even if I'd still been your partner, I would've told her yes."

"Without telling us," Steve states flatly, then raises an eyebrow. "Or would you have lied?"

"I don't know, Steve. I really don't."

Maybe he really doesn't know, but Steve's brain is saying he does.

"So what you're actually saying is you would've kept quiet. Why? Why wouldn't you tell us- tell Chin and Kono? Or Max? Even Kamekona probably would've helped!"

Danny's quiet for a moment, blinking slowly as he studies Steve's face.

"Why wouldn't I tell you, you mean," he finally says, voice low, as if he's waiting for something from Steve, but whatever it is, it's a mystery to Steve, who manages an uncomfortable, "I... Yeah."

Danny's eyes are too sharp when he looks at him, and Steve finds himself fighting the urge to fidget. The double conversation from earlier is gone, but they've found another. And this one's giving him a bad feeling.

"Because 'you' isn't _you_. 'You' is _Catherine and you_."

"What? Does that even makes sense to you? I'm not me? But I am, because I'm Catherine and me?"

"That's a deliberate misunderstanding, and we both know it. You found a partner you preferred, but what was I supposed to do? You left me on my own, Steve; our partnership went from ninety to zero. Chin and Kono were used to working with each other. Yeah, I'd partnered with them before, but threes don't work in the field, and I could only break in so many times. I was thinking about requesting a rookie of my own, someone I could work with and not be messing with the couple or the cousins, but you saved me the embarrassment of that."

"So resigning and, what, being a _mall cop_ was less embarrassing?" Steve can hear his voice rising, but he's about to ask for closure, which is far more important. For years, he's needed to hear Danny- the real one, the one sitting barely a foot away- answer the question he's asked himself every day. "One mistake warranted that?"

"One mis- _One_ mistake?" Danny's voice grows harsh, but his face only darkens slightly, as if he can't quite muster enough anger. "No, it was the years of purposeful neglect that broke the cop's back. I thought you got it, that the police- that _I_ have lines that can't be broken. We can't protect people if we don't respect the rights they're owed- _all of them,_ not just the ones you like. _"_ His head drops, his face hidden. and if Steve didn't know better, he'd think Danny were the guilty one, that _he'd_ been caught with his pants down. _"_ Rules are all that separate us from the scumbags we arrest. But you, you trampled on that. In that room, you two broke the law, and _you didn't care_. How could I stay with Five-0 after that?"

Somehow, he'd thought his closure would be peaceful. This isn't peaceful; it's agonizing.

He can feel Danny's eyes on him, as sharp as ever, and beneath them, his quiet, "I'm sorry," feels inadequate.

Unsure more what to say, Steve's quiet for too long and knows it, but he's stuck, caught in fight or flight: explain himself or leave the table, the house, the guilt, _Danny_.

"You know what's funny?" Danny asks out of nowhere, his head coming up. "I'm not actually mad at you anymore. It's been too long for me to be as angry as I was. And even then, it wasn't real anger. It was like watching Mat get on that helicopter all over. He was my baby brother, who was smart enough to go to an Ivy League school but didn't because it cost too much, who made Grace smile when a case left me too sick to do it myself. And you, you were Super SEAL, my crazy partner, the guy my kid idolized." His breath is catching, his eyes too-bright, but Danny keeps talking anyway. "It took me almost a year to stop expecting you to just appear. My commute was too quiet, the mall too easy, and I had fight the urge to turn around ask for my job back."

At the end of Danny's confession, Steve's answer finds him.

"I isn't Cath and I anymore, you know. I is just Steve," he blurts. It isn't what he'd meant to say and is frighteningly close to admitting Rachel had been right, back in the hospital, but he can't take it back.

"You really have to let that go, buddy. Even I, the person who coined the phrase, think it's been done to death." Danny pauses, but his face is fond, as if he's just realizing how bizarre their conversation is but isn't bothered by it. "I knew about you and Cath, actually. The divorce. Rachel told me. I'm sorry."

"Don't be. We went in still seeing each other as friends with benefits. Turns out, that's not good enough."

"Ah, marriage, the great illuminator. You see more than you bargain for with that."

"I think it was more that she heard more, but..."

Danny's brow is barely halfway up his forehead when Steve catches his mistake.

"That's not- I didn't-"

"Don't tell me you said the wrong name, McGarrett," Danny orders, so Steve doesn't. He plans to stay quiet until- "You did, didn't you? Who the hell were you thinking of when you were with the lovely Catherine? What woman could _possibly_ have captured your interest so much, you couldn't remember _her_? Was it a porn star? Please don't let it be one of them. They're someone's daughters, you animal."

"It wasn't a woman! It was-" Steve knows now isn't the time. The timing is so far off, his only choice is to shut up and backtrack. "It was you, all right! You were the one who distracted me!"

His face is hot with embarrassment, but at least his eyes are closed, so he can't see Danny's face- or worse, his fists. _Shit_. He's got to find a way to cover, or at least-

A Danny-sized hand grabs Steve's wrist, physically restraining him for the second time that day. This time, though, Steve actually does want to leave. He wants to be as far away from Danny and the mess that's replaced his orderly thoughts as he can get.

Instead, he's stuck in his chair. He _could_ shake Danny's hand off, but it's warm and gentle, just resting on his skin.

"Maybe this island has finally made me crazy, but was that a confession?"

"No, it was-"

"Because it sounded a lot like one. It sounded like you were telling me, 'Danny, part of the reason my marriage failed is that I have feelings, of the amorous kind, towards you.' Now, I could be wrong-"

"You could, yeah-"

"But I'm not, am I?"

Steve sighs and slumps forward. It's not as if he'd ever been good at hiding things from his partner. Danny would find out some way or another, and he'd push and pry, or sit back and wait for Steve to spill. In the end, he'd find out what was bothering Steve- and, usually, talk him through it.

"No, you're not."

Humming thoughtfully, Danny nods. "So... is this you having a gay freak out?"

"No! I'm not having a freak out, and I'm notgay."

Danny's face says he's far from convinced, and Steve can't blame him. His voice  _had_ come out closer to desperate than convincing...

"So you're not gay and you're not freaking out. I could've sworn a man thinking about- and liking- sex with another man was gay. It's been a while since I've seen it, but your expression is very close to Aneurysm Face, which you get whenever you're worried or upset."

"Fine! I'm a little gay, and I'm a little freak out- but not _because_  of being gay. Didn't I just out myself? To the man I mentally cheated on my wife with?" Steve snaps, his back straightening as his temper flares.

"Would you take it down a notch? For a man who isn't panicking, you're getting a bit... SEAL-y. You're making Himalayases out of heiaus."

" _SEAL-y?_ What are you, five? And for your information, the plural of heiau is typically just heiau. The s is unnecessary and not how you make plurals in Hawaiian. And you didn't answer my question."

"You're unnecessary," Danny grumbles. "I know it wasn't an answer. What am I supposed to say? 'Thank you, Steven. I am honored that you would go gay for me.' Or, 'Yes, you did, but it's okay, because somewhere between hating you and deciding I wanted to stay in Hawaii and be your partner, I wanted you to be my _partner-_ yeah, like that. The sleep together, eat together, raise Grace in our house and have joint bank accounts kind.' I'm no good at this, Steve. I can't just go from pining in secret to wearing a pink shirt with rainbows and a huge heart around 'I love Steven McGarrett.'"

Danny lapses into silence as Steve gapes at him, wondering for the hundredth time at the change in the other man. Even when Danny'd managed to sit still, Steve had _felt_ the man's discomfort. As they are now, there's a patience to the silence, as if it had aged as much as Danny.

It's irritating.

"Would you just _talk_?" It's far from the genteel response he'd planned, but the stillness is getting to him.

It does get a reaction, though.

"Talk? Talk about what, exactly? You're not gay, but you've got a- a thing for me. I'm flexible, but I don't trust you anymore. Plus, you're still guilty about what happened with Anja- which wasn't your fault, you self-centered pseudo-masochist- and what I'm sure was unintentional cheating on your wife. I don't know what you think is a good basis for a relationship, but this? Isn't it."

"So that wasn't just a joke. You want me, too."

"Not the point, McGarrett!"

"Then what is?" Frustrated and tired of feeling guiltily for pining for his partner, Steve takes Danny's hands and leans across the table- He briefly considers throwing the cold tea cups to the floor but decides that would be overdramatic- to look him in the eye. "I couldn't be married to Cath, because I kept wanting you. I couldn't date after the divorce, either, because none of them were you. I know you aren't married or dating anyone, and you just told me you love me. Reluctantly and backhandedly, sure, but you did.

"I'm guilty, yeah, but not seeing you won't make it go away. And I can't try to earn your trust again if you won't give me a second chance. I've spent years keeping this to myself and watching things fall apart anyway. I thought if I didn't think about it, I could live without it, but I can't, Danno. So please... Let me try?"

Danny's eyes narrow, and he leans back, putting space between them. His hands, however, stay in Steve's, and that's answer enough for him.

"So, how about some breakfast?"

 

**Author's Note:**

> I have to admit, I thought of Danny's German as Low German (Plattdeutsch), because of my own mother. I may have overdone the amount of guttural noises there would have been, but I'm basing that on the different pronunciations of "ch" in German, whether it's closer to an English "sh" (Anja's) or "kh" (Danny's). Which is boring you, I'm sure.
> 
> "Das ist Ansichtssache," is German for "That is a matter of opinion."
> 
> The "I'm guilty, yeah..." paragraph contains a sacrilegious corruption of Aleksandr Sergeyvich Pushkin:
> 
> "I've lived to bury my desires  
> And see my dreams corrode with rust.  
> Now all that's left are fruitless fires  
> That burn my empty heart to dust,"


End file.
